Playing in the (Channel) Surf
by fragrantfields
Summary: Written on the theme of opposites and the prompt (which I gave myself because the muse hit me with this) of Bill and Laura, watching TV: you're doing it wrong
Bluish-white light flickered, strobe-like, in the dimness of the Admiral's quarters. Bill angled further away and shifted his book to the right, but the flashing kept drawing his eyes away from the words. Finally, he marked his place and closed the cover.

He wished he'd never given permission for this.

"Am I bothering you?" Laura put the remote down, fingers still hovering over the device.

He sighed and got up. Maybe a drink would help. And maybe if she settled on one thing to watch from start to finish—He flinched as the channel changed again and sounds of a ground battle filled the air.

"Laura…"

"Fix me one, too, would you, Bill? I'm just trying to find…" The screen flickered again. "No, maybe this one. It's a detective show. Or"-another flick-"did you ever watch this? It's pretty funny if you like really broad humor. Not my usual thing but I remember it being popular."

"I thought this was going to be used for group recreation. You know, people getting together for an hour or two, enjoying a show, maybe talking about it after." He handed her a fresh drink and sat, leaning back into the leather seat. "Having an individual screen in here…I'm not sure I'm a fan."

Laura rolled her eyes. "You think people would relax and enjoy a show with us and our security details around? Not likely."

"Speaking of relaxing and enjoying, how come you don't just settle on something and watch it? You haven't done that since this thing was installed," he said.

She shrugged. "Habit, I guess. I had to keep up with multiple broadcasts when I was Secretary, scanning through for mentions of this or that. Or I'd have twenty minutes to catch an hour show, so I'd fast forward over the parts that looked boring."

"We don't have a thousand channels any more, Laura. Just pick something and let's watch it straight through. Or me and my book will be in our rack. This constant flipping—"

Laura's thumb stilled on the remote. "How about this?" Her lips curved into a sly smile.

The couple on the screen were glaring at each other, leaning towards each other like they were about to fight. The woman jabbed her finger into the man's chest, castigating him over putting himself in danger again. Laura's chuckle turned into a breathy _Oh!_ as the woman slammed her partner into the nearest wall, tearing his shirt open.

"This was the spy couple, right?" He slipped his arm around her shoulder.

"Yeah, they…" Her voice trailed off as the couple on the screen kissed and grabbed at clothes, hair, whatever they could reach. When the guy lifted his spy-partner's skirt to her waist and slipped her lacy panties over her ass and down her thighs, he swallowed hard. Just an outline, a suggestion, not like they were showing anything, but still…

The man licked his fingers, then slipped them between his partner's legs. Laura squirmed beside him. The woman's moans and whimpers, the man's husky laugh made the scene as dirty as the pilots' porn while showing a tenth as much.

The scene played out, shadows and jump cuts hiding the parts their imaginations were just fine with providing. It felt natural, even inevitable, that Bill would mimic the panty-sliding action, smothering Laura's giggles with a firm kiss.

He pulled back. "Still want to see what's on the other channels?"

She glared at him, breathing hard, her bra askew over her breasts. "Don't you dare." She jabbed her finger against his chest. "I like it right where it is."

She gave him a feral grin, grabbing and pulling until he was under her, clothes half-off. They play-tussled until both were naked enough, the explicit sounds from the screen giving them the perfect soundtrack.

When Bill licked his fingers and reached under her, her full-bodied shudder knocked the remote to the floor. The figures on the screen froze in their artificial joining. The figures on the couch kept moving, thrusting and grinding and groaning until they came, sharp gasps and gritted-teeth wails, fingernails dug into leather.

"Gods!" Laura said, moving off him and curling into his side.

He picked the remote up from where it had fallen.

"What are you doing? Thought you hated that thing," she murmured sleepily.

He hit "Play" and the spy couple began acting out their angsty passion again, twisting and writhing together. He tried not to think about the directors and crew who would have surrounded the two figures, telling them what to do. It looked real enough to him. And apparently it had to Laura, too.

"Just letting them finish." He lazily stroked her back.

With any luck, someone in the Fleet had the complete series. If not…he grinned at the woman in his arms.

 _We'll just have to use our imagination._


End file.
